


The Masked Enigma

by SilverServerError



Series: The Guardians of Fate [2]
Category: CLAMP - Works, xxxHoLic
Genre: (I hope), A couple laughs, AU, M/M, Mostly porn, Porn, it's a party in here, just trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverServerError/pseuds/SilverServerError
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki supposes it's time they take their relationship to the next level. </p><p>That doesn't make him any less nervous about it.</p><p>Alternative Title: Watanuki has strong opinions about bukakke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Masked Enigma

He holds Doumeki’s hand nervously as he guides him back to the bedroom. It’s too soon. He’s not ready for this. And honestly he doesn’t think Doumeki is either. But he knows if he doesn’t share this part of himself soon, he is going to lose him.

 

Blue eyes glance fleetingly over his shoulder to catch Doumeki’s gaze, then turn away quickly. Doumeki’s obviously still angry with him. But Watanuki can- _is going_ to fix this.

 

Doumeki is special. He’s kind and patient and _really_ cares about him. Watanuki will do whatever it takes.

 

Even if Yuuko might kill him if she finds out.

 

No. Scratch that.

 

She _will_ kill him _when_ she finds out. Or maybe worse, fire him. But, he has to draw the line somewhere right? The thought is a cold comfort as he reaches his goal.

 

“I… Doumeki.” This is was so much harder than he had thought it would be. “I haven’t been being entirely honest with you. There’s something you should know.”

 

He grips the closet door. It’s now or never.

 

He pushes it open and changes both of their lives forever.

 

The lighting has switched on as it always does, illuminating the small room and the hanging body suit and armor. It shines like black leather under the light. The boots are lined up neatly beneath it. The mask, gloves and belt sit on their pedestal to the right.

 

He’s inspecting every detail of the suit like it’s the first time, because the alternative is to see how Doumeki is taking this and the pressure is just too high.

 

“You wear this?” Doumeki’s voice is carefully flat. (Or at least that’s how Watanuki thinks of it. It’s simply not possible that that calm is authentic, right?)

 

“When I’m with the Mistress.” Watanuki confirms.

 

Doumeki’s hand holds his a little tighter and they finally look at each other, solemn. “I’m a…” And Watanuki falters. He’s never said it out loud before. But Doumeki is nodding, having finally figured it out. It lends Watanuki strength when they speak it together.

 

“A superhero.” “A fetishist.”

 

It’s like hitting a brick wall, except the brick wall hits you, except the brick wall is Doumeki being stupid.

 

“Excuse me?” he sputters.

 

“Is that not…” Doumeki raises an eyebrow, looking deadpan back to the suit. “Is that not where you were going with this?”

 

“No. The Mistress and I- You know Mistress Swallowtail, right?”

 

“Who?”

 

“You’ve never heard of her? Mistress Swallowtail.” At the blank look on his face, Watanuki keeps going. “The Frozen Phoenix. Black Steel. Is none of this ringing a bell to you? The Guardians of Fate?”

 

“Are they… a band?” Doumeki hazards.

 

“NO! They’re- **I** am a superhero, you… you thick, frustrating, painfully slow on the uptake piece of-“ At the last moment Watanuki wrestles himself into seething silence. He hits a switch by the door and the walls break into panels and spin, his arsenal and equipment laid out on dozens of brushed steel shelves and lit by the glowing panels that back the entire false wall system.

 

Doumeki watches, eyes uncharacteristically wide. Slowly they return to normal but at least now he has the idiot’s attention.

 

“Is this why you’ve been standing me up?”

 

“YES. OBVIOUSLY.”

 

“Because you’ve been out fighting crime?”

 

“More or less.”

 

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

 

“Well, yeah. But we help people. Danger is kind of in the job description.”

 

Doumeki raises an eyebrow. “We?”

 

“Swallowtail and I. We’re a team. I help her out. She’s sort of the main offense and I run support. Watch her back and stuff.”

 

“You’re her sidekick?”

 

The distaste on Watanuki’s face is immediate. “Ugh! No! Are you kidding me? Why would you even say that? You know what? Don’t speak. It makes you sound stupid.”

 

Yes. Yes, he was her sidekick.

 

But he wouldn’t be forever. Once he was past his probationary period, they all promised he’d move up in the ranks.

 

“So what’s your superhero name, boy wonder?”

 

He frowns. “The Masked Enigma.”

 

Doumeki just hisses a sympathetic wince.

 

“SHUT UP.”

 

He doesn’t but at least he changes the subject, finally stepping forward to give the suit a closer look. “Is that a corset?”

 

Watanuki balks. “No! It’s tactical body armor. If it’s not tight like that someone can grab it and it becomes a liability.”

 

“It still looks like a corset.”

 

“It’s KEVLAR!”

 

“It’s kind of kinky.” And when their eyes meet for a moment, Doumeki has that look.

 

For all that Doumeki is quiet, reserved, subtle (such a nice counterpoint to his own personality, really)… Occasionally he is tactlessly blatant about what he wants.

 

Watanuki hides his burning face behind his hands. What had he done that was so terrible as to deserve this?

 

“I like your mask too.” It’s a single strip of stiff black fabric, perfectly sculpted to sit across the bone structure of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Watanuki peeks between his fingers to find Doumeki holding it, bending it experimentally.

 

Oh good, Watanuki thinks sarcastically. At least he likes the mask.

  
Doumeki pulls him closer, and holds up the fabric questioningly. Watanuki huffs but takes off his glasses without comment and places them on the pedestal. Doumeki sets the mask in place and ties the ends around the back of Watanuki’s head. It’s striking. Pale skin, dark fabric and deep blue eyes. “I like how this looks on you.”

 

The heat in his voice is subtle, but Watanuki is absolutely sure he hears it. He rolls his eyes where the mask now frames them.

 

“Put the corset on.”

 

“It’s not a corset. It’s armor.”

 

Doumeki pulls on his wrists, making Watanuki stumble forward so they now stand flush chest to chest. The shorter has to crane his neck a little to see him. “I want to see you in it.” It growls through Doumeki’s chest in a way Watanuki can feel as well as hear.

 

Maybe it’s the bravado of the mask. Or the stress of revealing his secret. Maybe it’s just because it’s been a really long day. But Watanuki is at the end of his patience. If Doumeki wants to see him in his suit so bad, he can open a newspaper like everyone else. Seriously, does this guy live under a rock?

 

“No.” Watanuki frowns. “You didn’t even ask nicely.”

 

It’s then that Doumeki hoists him up, arms around his waist, and backs him swiftly into a wall.

 

“What are you doing!?”

 

“Asking nicely.”

 

And then Doumeki is on him. Broad hands slip under his shirt and up his chest while a thigh pushes firmly between his legs.

 

“Doumeki!” He protests shrilly. “You can’t just-“

 

But then Doumeki sucks hard at the base of his neck and a thumb drags across his left nipple. Before he can stop himself, he ruts deliciously against the pressure between his legs and frankly Doumeki can do whatever the hell he wants.

 

Watanuki’s head falls back against the wall and each pant of his breath is tinged with a whine as Doumeki rocks against him. He cries out and screws his eyes shut as the touch turns into a pinch.

 

“Fuck!”

 

His arms come up to drag Doumeki away from his neck, intent on giving him a lecture, but when he sees the expression on his face, any thought of that disappears. He pulls him into a kiss instead, nipping at a lip, sucking hard on his tongue.

 

But it’s not enough. Even the pressure and the heat and the speed. It’s not enough and soon he’s dragging down at Doumeki’s shoulders, hoping he’ll get the message.

 

And he does. To an extent.

 

About a week ago Doumeki discovered how much it drove Watanuki crazy when he teased the skin just below his hipbone and along the crease where thigh met pelvis. He’d been using that knowledge mercilessly ever since. A thumb slips below Watanuki’s waistband and across the bone, massaging firm circles into his skin and sending little waves of desire through his core. Then with barely any resistance, he drags down, pulling along the hem of his activewear trousers. (They’re not yoga pants. Watanuki has told him at length that they’re _not_ yoga pants). The pale expanse of delicate skin is exposed, so many blue tinted veins visible in a network just below the thin surface. The barest trail of dark hair leads off to the side, further down. Doumeki’s tan hand wraps around him, fingers griping into the lower curve of his buttocks, into the very top of his thigh, while his thumb teases back and forth, slipping deeper into the material and running along that tender skin. The pressure runs on the mind-melting boarder between a tickle and pain that has heat pooling between his legs and racing back up his spine. “Doumeki!” He whines, breathless and fighting to keep his knees from collapsing. He grasps at the walls and his hand falls serendipitously on something especially familiar.

 

A fully formed plan of attack springs almost instantaneously into being.

 

And He’ll implement it.

 

Any second now.

 

Just… maybe he’ll let Doumeki keep going for a little while longer. See where he’s going with this.

 

Turns out where he’s going is Watanuki collapsed and shaking around his shoulders, moaning throatily as he sucks a dark hicky into the hollow just inside of his hipbone. They lose balance. Collapse onto the carpeted floor in a tangle of limbs. Doumeki wrestles to get Watanuki undressed (with which he cooperates) and then wrestles to get on top of him (with which he most certainly does not). The struggle does nothing but excite them further as they push and pin, growl and writhe. Doumeki doesn’t even realize he’s losing until mid-maneuver he hears a metallic ratchet and something closes firmly around his wrist. It’s only another moment before Watanuki drags his other hand up and it happens a second time. Doumeki looks up from where he’s on his back on the floor. His wrists are both bound in gently padded but tightly fixed handcuffs that have been threaded through the lowest in a track full of shelves that runs up the wall.

 

His eyes snap back to Watanuki where he’s sitting on his chest, looking down with a slowly growing grin, relishing his victory. They’re both still breathing heavily and the sound fills the room. With the clink of chain, Doumeki tests the bonds.

 

They hold fast.

 

On his chest Watanuki’s eyes go wide and he starts stroking himself.

 

“Come closer.”

 

And with a quirk of his lips, Watanuki does, shuffling forward on his knees but holding his length teasingly just out of reach of Doumeki’s mouth.

 

“Unlock the cuffs.” Doumeki insists.

 

But Watanuki looks down at him in delight, hand working himself faster. “No.” He sighs.

 

“Let me touch you!”

 

“No!” It’s a groan that coincides with the way a bead of pearly wetness slides down the side of his cock.

 

Driven to frustration, Doumeki glares up at him as he drags a hot, wet tongue carefully around the side of one of his balls. Watanuki gasps loudly and the shudder rips through his entire body. Doumeki arches up, painfully aroused, thrusting into nothingness and knocks him off balance. Watanuki catches himself with his free hand inches from Doumeki’s face.

 

“Doumeki.” He pants, eyes blown wide. “Suck me off.”

 

“I’m trying, idiot!”

 

Watanuki guides himself in with a shaking hand and it’s over almost before it begins. Doumeki’s full lips wrap around his shaft, sucking him deeper, tongue writhing back to tease across his slit a few times before pressing him firm between his rolling tongue and hard palate. The sensation rips through Watanuki and it’s the greatest feeling in the world to give himself over to that wet, needy heat. He comes with a broken scream, rolling himself against the roof of Doumeki’s willing mouth as the heat spills out of him. It’s only when the last aftershocks have died away that he retreats, doing so with a whimper when Doumeki sucks him clean in the process, one last assault on over sensitive nerves.

 

He crawls back, entirely off Doumeki, to land boneless with his back to the column of the pedestal. They eye each other from the new distance, one gaze significantly more serene than the other. Then Watanuki lets his head fall back and his eyes fall closed in a huff. His body sings with bliss. It’s like he can feel the Brownian motion of the universe and his whole body vibrates to it, feels alive with it. He smiles, wide and easy.

 

“Oi!”

 

His eyes slide open but he does not move.

 

“What?”

  
  
Doumeki looks pointedly to where his own erection is straining, then back to Watanuki.

 

Who just shrugs and pantomimes weighing his options. “I don’t know…”

 

“YOU DON’T KNOW?” Doumeki thunders, an impressive attempt at intimidation for someone chained to the floor and hard in his pants.

 

“You did call me ‘boy wonder’.” Watanuki’s eyes narrow. “That was very rude of you.”

 

Doumeki screws his eyes shut then tears them open again. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it.”

 

“I’m not a sidekick.”

 

“No! Of course not! I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry, I- Watanuki, _please_.”

 

Doumeki isn’t the most loquacious of lovers, but Watanuki has found if he gets him desperate, _really_ desperate, sometimes that low, steady voice of his will start to babble.

 

With a grin he reaches up lazily and hits a hidden button on the underside of the pedestal’s rim. Machinery hums to life and the shelving unit Doumeki is attached to starts to ascend. He has to scrabble awkwardly to keep up. Watanuki stops it when Doumeki is stood all the way up, arms stretched out above him. But then he notices the way he’s standing on the balls of his feet and dials the track back down again so he can stand more comfortably. When Doumeki laughs under his breath at this nicety, he glares and reverses it right back to where it was. If the big lug thinks he can handle the strain, fine, let him.

 

He pushes himself up to standing. Forsakes Doumeki and his waiting arousal in favor of perusing one of his walls. Their tussling had knocked a few things out of place and he fixes them now.

 

“Hmm…” Watanuki muses. “So many choices.” He weighs the heft of a throwing knife in his hand and flips it easily in his hand before setting it back to right. “No…” He takes two batons and touches them together, an arc of electricity burning between them and causing the smell of ozone to fill the room. He looks over his shoulder to gauge Doumeki’s reaction. “Ok, not today apparently.” Then his hand falls on a short leather whip. He twists it a few times in his hand, keeping the rotation tight in the small room and then cracks it low to the floor. Doumeki’s hands are fisted in their restraints and he appears to no longer be breathing. “Oh? Did you _like_ that, darling?” Watanuki asks, voice dripping sin.

 

He gathers the leather as he saunters forward a few steps, doubling it back on itself and pulling it tight with a snap.

 

He closes in and uses the handle to force Doumeki’s chin up, leaving him exposed, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows tightly.

 

“Well, I hope you’re ready, sweetheart. Because I’m about to-“

 

An alarm rips through the air and for a moment the room flashes purple.

 

Watanuki’s eyes go wide. “Shit, shit, shit!”

 

He scrambles to find his discarded pants and pulls his phone out of the back pocket. The room falls to silence as he unlocks the screen and dismisses an alert. He leaves it on the pedestal as he starts pulling on the flexible undersuit of his uniform. It goes on easily and he zips it up the front. His wrist communicator is already vibrating with a call. He brings it up to just under his chin and presses it with his left hand to activate it. “Come in Swallowtail. Do you read me?”

 

“Loud and clear, Enigma. We’ve got a code green in sector seven. I want an ETA of fifteen minutes. Can you confirm?”

 

Watanuki turns to look apologetically over his shoulder. Doumeki’s face is hard to describe. Shock, but still laboring under the burden of arousal and very slowly realizing the potential horror of the situation.

 

“Enigma? Can you confirm?”

 

He sighs. “Negative, Swallowtail. Expect a delay of give or take five minutes.”

 

There is heavy silence on the other end of the line. Then, “Really?”

 

“Yes, really!” He snaps defensively.

 

“Why?”

 

“JUST BECAUSE. OK? HOW ABOUT YOU RESPECT MY PRIVACY FOR ONCE?”

 

His left hand falls away and the communicator lapses into silence. For a few moments he just fumes, staring at the wall.

 

“Hey…” Doumeki says gently. “Are you-“

 

But Watanuki’s gaze snaps back to him and cuts him off. “We don’t have much time.”

 

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

 

Watanuki closes the distance, hands to either side of Doumeki’s neck, frowning apologetically. “Sorry about this.”

 

“It’s cool.” Doumeki assures him. “I wasn’t really that into getting whipped anyway.”

 

Watanuki just grins and nudges their noses together. “I wasn’t going to actually whip you.” He admits. “Just get you a little worried.”

 

“This is great and all, but… I mean, five minutes right? Four and a half now?”

 

Watanuki nods, pressing a kiss against his cheek before sliding down, kneeling at his feet. He makes short work of the buckle and pulls his fly open. Watanuki didn’t exactly have a working knowledge of Doumeki’s underwear yet, but this pair was a particular favorite of his. Nicer than the conservative grays and blacks he tended towards.

 

“Aww!” He cooes up at him, pulling the pants halfway down his thighs. It doesn’t make standing any easier for Doumeki but his ease of movement isn’t exactly Watanuki’s priority right now. “You wore the maroon ones!”

 

“You said you liked them.” Doumeki averts his gaze.

 

Watanuki blushes pink against the black of his mask. Doumeki had remembered. And he’d worn them. For _him_.

 

Watanuki lets his hands trail along the patch of bare thigh he’d uncovered, appreciating the way Doumeki’s hardness strains against the fabric. The way the tip is already staining dark with wetness. He wants to tease him. To nuzzle at him through the cotton until he begs. But there just isn’t the time. He pulls the fabric down instead.

 

“Doumeki.” He prompts, and the man in question looks back to him. Watanuki wraps one hand firm around his base and it is with a sweet smile that he guides the weeping head of his cock between his lips. Doumeki wants to watch. Wants nothing else more. But it’s just too much.

 

The blue of his eyes. The mask. His kiss swollen lips. The pink tongue that slides out to torture him. The hair. The eyelashes. He can’t- He-

 

He has to look away. Gather his courage. Steal another glance. The pattern repeats.

 

Watanuki must know. Has to know. He pulls away with a teasing smile only to come back and murmur against his shaft, “What’s wrong, dear?” Eyes wide and blinking up at him innocently.

 

The question is rhetorical but Doumeki is too out of it and can’t help but answer anyway.

 

“You’re too beautiful.” He says desperately, and Watanuki grins against him, hand starting to pump and tongue dragging luxuriously across the head. “You… I want to kiss you. Want to fuck you. Want to come all over that pretty face of yours.” Watanuki freezes, then continues a little more earnestly, wrapping his lips around him. “Wanna mess up your hair. Wanna see myself drip down your chin.” Watanuki’s eyes are wide now. Wide and intense and unbelieving and so, so blue. “Want you to close your eyes so I can come all over that mask of yours. White on black. So gorgeous.” And he does close his eyes, not to fulfill his fantasy but to suck hard at him, fist pumping against him at speed until it’s too much. Doumeki breaks with a quiet gasp and a low groan and Watanuki does not pull away until the final drop leaves him.

 

“Shit!” Doumeki curses with relish and appreciation.

 

Watanuki stands quickly, pulling Doumeki into a ferocious kiss and leaving him with a mouthful of semen. While he’s dealing with the shock of that, Watanuki hisses into his ear. “Just a word of warning: If we’re ever doing that again and you get anything on my mask, even the slightest drop, I will _eviscerate_ you. There will _be_ no body to find.”

 

It shouldn’t be hot. Shouldn’t make him shudder the way it does.

 

“I thought you were a good guy.”

 

Watanuki leans in, fisting Doumeki’s hair and dragging him down. They kiss filthily, the cloudy bitterness stretching thin between their tongues as he pulls back away.

 

“I am a _very_ good guy.” Watanuki clarifies, should there be any doubt. “But there are some things that are just unforgivable.”

 

Watanuki touches an electronic release to the cuffs and Doumeki is grateful for the way he seems to anticipate his muscle fatigue, catching his arms and guiding them down with a minimum of pain. Then he is away, piecing together his armor and pulling on his gloves and boots. Still leaning against the wall, Doumeki does his own redressing.

 

“You can hang out here until I get back if you want.” Watanuki offers. It’s a big step. He’s never left Doumeki in his house alone. “Did you eat before?” Back at the restaurant where he’d missed their date.

 

“No.”

 

“Ok, there should be leftovers in the fridge if you want. Careful if you make anything. I have a gas stove. Make sure you don’t leave it on or-“

 

Doumeki pulls him away from where he is hooking a seemingly endless supply of equipment into his belt and fretting. He silences that moving mouth by pressing his own lips against it. “Stop worrying. I know how to use a microwave.”

 

“Just don’t break anything, ok?”

 

“I’m not going to break anything.”

 

“And don’t mess with my stuff in here. At least half of it could kill you and I’m going to be really pissed if you die.”

 

“I promise.”

 

Watanuki checks himself over one last time. All his equipment is in place. He walks out of the closet and to the bedroom window, preferring this exit over the more conventional one. He slips one leg out then hesitates. “See you when I get back?”

 

Doumeki meets him with a goodbye kiss that is firm but short. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

He tries to track Watanuki as he leaves, but his black suit is perfect camouflage and he simply melts into the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> There's at lest three more drabbles worth of costume porn in this verse. Imagine my surprise when I had to start cutting stuff out. ;x; If you'd like to see more, be sure to leave a comment or something? I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
